


Manhunt

by Somedeepmystery



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Betrayal, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, OC mentions, Romance, mission, silliness, smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedeepmystery/pseuds/Somedeepmystery
Summary: The UNCLE team stays on their toes as they scour the city for a wanted spy.





	Manhunt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SydneyMo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyMo/gifts).



> Suuuprise! Merry Christmas, SydneyMo! I hope this at least a little like you were hoping to get. May you enjoy this fic and have an excellent Holiday!
> 
> Big thank you to my darling diadema for the beta work.

 

“This isn’t happening,” Solo said, settling down into the dark corner where Illya had stationed himself. It was well-concealed and gave them a clear view of the front of the Plaza hotel and of the people who came and went.

Illya looked down at his watch and noted the time. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly at what he saw. “There have been fifteen women and two men of the suspect's approximate height who have entered the hotel in the last thirty minutes,” he told his partner. 

“Cheating,” Solo said. “Peril, I am telling you it is cheating to be that average.”

Illya gave a soft grunt that neither agreed nor dissented. ‘Average’ was not a word he would have applied. 

His radio crackled. “The warehouse is a bust,” a lightly-accented female voice announced over the airwaves. 

“Good work, Accosta.” Waverly's response came through the radio as well. Illya didn’t look at the device, his eyes trained on the people going in and out of the high-end hotel using a spyglass. “Bashkin, any sign of her at the docks? She has shown a surprising acumen with boats.”

Illya’s fingers drummed along the cylinder of his telescope before stilling. 

Solo sighed loudly beside him and shook his head. “She didn’t take a boat. What is she going to do? Zip over to North Brother and hide out in the abandoned hospital?”

Turning briefly to make eye contact, Illya set his gaze on Solo for a long moment, saying nothing. Solo dropped his shoulders. 

“Damn. She _would_. She would absolutely do that.”

“There has been no sign of target at docks,” Alexi’s disembodied voice responded.

Solo turned the radio down as Waverly continued to check in with the other agents. “I guess I’m off to meet with the ghost of Mary Mallon.”

Illya snorted at that. “Ghosts.”

“This isn’t going to stand, Peril. I’m telling you right now,” Solo said.

“You are going to the island then?”

Another long-suffering sigh. “If she’s there, I may strangle her,” he said, checking the safety on his gun before tucking it back into place. He secured his radio and pushed to his feet. “If she’s not, I am _definitely_ going to strangle her.“

...

Illya slid easily through the service entrance of the Plaza, largely unnoticed despite his height. He nodded to one of the busboys as he handed him a large bill and surreptitiously made his way to the back elevator. Closing the doors behind him, he looked at the buttons, narrowing his eyes before picking one and pressing it. 

On the fifth floor, Illya made his way down the hall. No longer needing to hide, he relaxed his shoulders and tried to look like any guest on the way to their room. He hesitated as he approached the door to Room 526. If he were wrong, things could go very badly. 

He slipped the lockpick tools he had been working with out of his pocket, and, after only one flubbed try, the latch clicked open. One broad hand pushed the door, letting it swing inward on quiet hinges to reveal the room. He looked inside, assessing gaze sweeping the space before stepping over the threshold. 

A brown, woolen peacoat was tossed across the back of the provided sofa, the glasses on the bar had been disturbed, and somewhere, a radio was playing a popular song at a subdued volume. He heard a splash of water and reached back to close the door as quietly as possible before crossing the room on silent feet. 

The bathroom door wasn’t even closed all the way, and he nudged it with his toe so that it too swung inward. He moved in and leaned a shoulder against the door jamb as the woman in the tub was revealed to him. 

“Consider yourself apprehended.”

Gaby Teller looked up at him with a wide smile. Her face was free of makeup and her dark hair was piled on top of her head and secured there with an orange ribbon. 

“Took you long enough,” she said smartly, lifting an arm and dragging a washcloth over her skin. “I beat Solo’s record though, and that is all that matters.”

Illya chuckled. “It helps to have an inside man.”

Gaby dropped her hand and frowned at him. “What do you mean?” She shifted in the tub, sitting up more and turning to the side, and Illya was hard pressed not to drop his eyes and watch the bubbles sliding down the slope of her small breasts. “I did _not_ cheat, Illya. I didn’t have any help. If you think that I—”

“No,” he said, holding up a hand and closing his eyes. “You did not cheat.”

“Damn right, I didn’t.”

“I did.”

She stilled. “What?”

“I have known where you were for hours, but I did not come.”

Gaby’ frown deepened. “Prove it.”

“You came into the hotel three hours ago,” he told her. “You were disguised as a plump, old man with a limp.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you—”

“If it is any consolation, Solo was right there and he did not recognize you.”

“Then how did you know it was me?” she demanded. “I walked right past Bennet at the bagel shop and Waverly was at the station.”

Illya looked down at the floor as he felt his ears grow warm. “He does not know you as—” he cleared his throat, “ _—intimately_ as I do.”

“Intimately?” 

Illya shrugged and stood up straight. “I am... very familiar with the curve of your behind, Gaby,” he said, only slightly rushed. 

There was a beat, and then she laughed. “I’ll have to remember that.” She settled back into the tub, submerging herself once more. “Oh well, _your_ weakness can’t be held against _me_.”

He huffed and shook his head. 

“So,” she asked, lifting a hand and dribbling bubbles over her exposed arm. “Are you going to call in and report me?”

He raised his eyes, let his gaze wander over the parts of her he could see through the water. “No.”

Gaby’s smile was pure indulgence. She set her hands on the side of the tub and stood slowly to her feet, revealing her body to him completely, and this time, he let himself follow the trails of bubbles as they sluiced down the length of her naked form. 

“Illya?” she asked, stepping out of the water and coming toward him, not bothering with a towel. “Do you know what’s better than an inside man?”

He hummed in question, their eyes meeting. He saw the hunger in there and knew it was matched in his own. “What would that be?”

“A man _inside_ ,” she offered, innuendo-heavy. She set her hands on his chest, and he felt the wet heat of them seep through his shirt to his skin. 

“I agree,” he said, picking her up, holding her against him and getting soaked in return. “But perhaps we should go over the logistics.”

Gaby’s face was serious as she looked down at him from her newly-gained perch. “Yes, I think we should.” She cupped his cheeks and brushed the tip of her nose over his. “I think we should be very, very thorough.” Then she kissed him, long and slow and sweet. 

...

It was sometime later that the couple was canoodling on the suite’s ivory brocade sofa. Gaby was in Illya’s lap, kissing him slowly as his hands slid over her ass. She was fully dressed after their earlier activities but was beginning to think quite fondly of being undressed again, when she heard the telltale metal-on-metal slide of someone picking the lock. She felt Illya’s hands go still and a moment later, the door to the room swung open and smacked against the inside wall. 

“You dirty cheat.”

“Hello, Napoleon,” Gaby greeted, lifting her head and settling back on Illya’s thighs.

“You rotten, little sneak.”

“ _I did not cheat,_ ” she iterated. “And I rather think sneaking is the point.”

“I am not talking about you,” Solo said, finally stepping inside. “I am talking about _him_.”

Illya shifted so he could look over the back of the sofa at the American without relinquishing his hold on Gaby.

“You are supposed to be working for our side.” Solo crossed his arms over his broad chest.

The Russian shrugged. “Compromised agent is always a possibility. You should be prepared.”

Solo inhaled through his nose and stood up a little straighter. “Damn. You’re right. I should have seen this coming. Oh well, I’ll turn you both in. Double points.”

Gaby brought her focus back to Illya. He was particularly lovely when he looked like this: proud of her, a little smug, definitely in love. She liked it. Probably because she was just as in love with him. “It doesn’t matter.” At her words, Illya smiled. It was tiny and very Russian, but that just made it mean all the more. “I still broke your record.”

Solo swore softly under his breath.

The End


End file.
